


Babysitting the Blakes

by ShfiftyFive



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Babysitting, Co-workers, College AU, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShfiftyFive/pseuds/ShfiftyFive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey!" Clarke whisper shouted, snapping her fingers until Bellamy finally paused and look up at her.</p><p>"What?" He said back in his normal voice.</p><p>"I can't babysit that," she mouthed jerking her head toward Octavia who was now staring into the open freezer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting the Blakes

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "WRITE CLARKE THINKING OCTAVIA IS A TODDLER BECAUSE BELLAMY IS STUPID AND OVERPROTECTIVE AND ASKS HER TO BABYSIT"
> 
> In which my friend yells at prompt at me through Tumblr and I write it.

Clarke followed Bellamy into the apartment.

"So, where is she?" Clarke asked peering down the hallway. He didn't answer right away, leaving her to to stand awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Um, around. Probably in her room," Bellamy trailed off. He was wearing his usual dark jeans, and boots, but he had traded his black t-shirt for a dark henley. His hair was still damp, leaving dark stains on his broad shoulders. Clarke stepped aside so he could grab his jacket off the stool while he muttered about keys and gestured toward the fridge.

"There's pizza and ice cream. I wasn't sure what you'd like," he lifted stacks of papers and pulled open kitchen drawers. "There are emergency numbers on the fridge."

Clarke wandered over to the small scrap of paper:  
1) 911  
2) Mulder...Miller? (get neighbor's number)

She snorted, but when she turned, her snide comment at the tip of her tongue, she saw that Bellamy wasn't in the kitchen anymore. Clarke sat down at one of the bar stools, sighing loudly into the empty room.

This was not a kid-friendly space. There were no plastic plates plates or loose toys. There were photos of Bellamy and a pretty brunette on the fridge, but no other signs of domestic, family life.

She peered around the small living room. The space looked like any other university apartment. The furniture was a light pine, varnished with a plastic coating. The couch was just slightly too small to feel like a real couch. There were a few knickknacks, some plastic framed movie poster. It reminded her of the two years she lived in the dorms. Everything was a little bit uncomfortable and it never felt like home.

Speaking of uncomfortable, this was going as awkwardly as she had anticipated. Seeing Bellamy outside of the special collections office was odd, not hot, thank you very much Raven Reyes. Now she was waiting around to meet her new charge and acting like babysitting was a thing she did, not just an offer her mouth made while her mind kicked itself repeatedly.

Sure a part of it had been a challenge to see if Bellamy would actually go out with his coworkers if he didn't have his trusty excuse. She was tired of him using his "great burden of responsibility" as leverage over her and her "charmed life."

She sighed again. Thank god she brought crayons. There was a small chance she had some leftover Halloween candy at the bottom of her purse. She could be fun.

"O! Where are my keys?" Bellamy shouted from the other room. Just then, a brunette young woman walked into the kitchen dangling a key ring in her outstretched hand.

"I dunno Bell, where did you have them last?" she asked loudly. She held the keys at arms length as Bellamy barreled into the room, nearly clothes-lining himself on her bangle clad arm. She smirked and walked over to the fridge barely batting an eye at Clarke.

That smirk.

No way.

He wouldn't.

Clarke gaped at Bellamy who was shoving his keys and his wallet into his jeans, looking back and forth between him and the genetically similar black hair of "O".

"Hey!" Clarke whisper shouted, snapping her fingers until Bellamy finally paused and look up at her.

"What?" He said back in his normal voice.

"I can't babysit that," she mouthed jerking her head toward Octavia who was now staring into the open freezer. Clarke could see 10 frozen pizzas and five pints of Dreyer's ice cream stuffed inside.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes and shook his head in confusion. Clarke grabbed his elbow, and dragged him back into the front hallway.

"I can't babysit that," Clarke said, still whispering, but close enough that Bellamy could hear.

"What are you talking about."

"That's not a child."

He looked at her blankly.

"That, can take care of itself. That does not need a babysitter."

"Will you stop calling my sister 'that'."

She stared at him. "How old is she?"

"Seventeen." Clarke's stare bore into him and he balked. "What?"

"Well, for starters you've always talked about her like she was five. This is the same girl who broke her arm trying to save a cat from a tree last month? Who got a pink cast with daisies on it?" She leaned in close. "Do you not see where I'm confused?"

Bellamy crossed his arms and looked at her through narrowed eyes.

Clarke took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was getting nowhere. Bellamy clearly believed that his seventeen-year-old sister needed a babysitter. Fine. It was one night, she had plenty of anatomy work to keep her busy, and she saw a pint of Caramel Delight in the freezer.

"Never mind."

He didn't budge.

"What, now you don't trust me?"

"No." He shuffled his feet, fingering the keys in his right hand, "Just...It's been a long time since I've gone out."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and Clarke sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that hour.

"Well start by going outside. Go. We'll be fine."

\----

So maybe Clarke hadn't been totally right, but that didn't make her wrong either. Just because she and Octavia ended up at the same bar as Bellamy did not mean this was her fault.

In fact, her precise words to Bellamy had been: "I can't babysit that." Not that Octavia didn't need supervision, she just was not the person for the job.

She was barely three years older than Octavia. What was she suppose to do when Octavia announced an Uber was on its way to take her downtown. Blockade the door? Confiscate her phone, call off Ben with the black Prius, and activate parental controls?

Bellamy fumed, his arms crossed and his eyes darting between Clarke and O who was twisting back and forth on a bar stool 200 feet away.

"Well, to start. Maybe don't volunteer to drive her to the bar yourself," he shouted over the clang of billiards and clinking glasses.

"It was the only way I could get her to stop climbing out her bedroom window. Besides, she told me we were going to the grocery store."  
Was Clarke suppose to know that Octavia would dart out of the car at first stop light they hit?

"Look, this isn't even a bar. Not really. It's a restaurant until 10 pm and it's only," she looked down at her father's wrist watch. "Eight. I have two hours before I have to get her out of here."

"Oh, so you are still watching her, this is just, what, a field trip?" he laughed hollowly, his words drenched in condescension. It was the proper handling of Leptis Magna Plan Map 2 all over again. "I'm getting O and we're going home."

Clarke grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the alcove.

"Stop. Just, stop for a second."

He stopped, but the tension in his shoulders said he was already half way out the door and dragging Octavia by the hood of her jacket. The muscle in his cheek was clenched so hard she worried his jaw would crack.

"Look, she's here and there's nowhere else to go in this god forsaken college town. At least you know where she is. I don't know, maybe don't let this ruin your night."

She couldn't help but feel bad. She believed Bellamy when he said he didn't get out much.

"Besides, she looks like she's having fun."

It was true. Octavia was beaming, watching the college kids cheer on the game playing on the flat screen, tracing the carved initials in the top of the wooden bar, taking in the tattoo'd bartender wiping down pint glasses. Most of those things had to warm Bellamy's heart a little.

"Let me buy you one drink and I then I'll drive us all home. Everyone wins."

Except my anatomy homework, Clarke thought, promising herself to never try to help anyone ever again.

"One beer," he muttered.

Clarke didn't realize she was still holding Bellamy's forearm until he pulled away and stomped toward the bar.

One beer turned into three. And then there was a round of tequila shots before the rest of their coworkers moved on to a house party. Bellamy told Octavia he wasn't going with them because he felt weird going to a college party when he already graduated.

Octavia bought it and went to change the music in the jukebox, but Clarke snorted loudly.

"Something funny, Princess?"

"Not really. I just didn't expect the night to end up here. I was suppose to spend the evening with a precocious little Octavia Blake who would draw adorably anatomically incorrect crayon hearts while I worked on my anatomy homework. Now I'm here."

She gestured at her outfit; a ratty high school track shirt spattered with green acrylic paint splotches, black leggings with holes in the knees, and slipper clogs she had promised Raven she would never wear out of the house. Bellamy eyes trailed her body with a soft smile.

"What?" He asked. "You look cute."

"Ha-ha," she laughed woodenly and sipped her ginger ale and marischino cherries monstrosity. Apparently it was Octavia's favorite and Bellamy had made a show of ordering a round for them both.

"Come on. Yoga pants. Yoga pants rock."

Typical male response. Clarke rolled her eyes, a blush creeped up her neck and she cursed her pale skin. He wasn't even talking about her. He was talking about literally any woman wearing tight fitting pants.

"Okay, how did you expect tonight to go?" Clarke asked, changing the subject.

"Well, first off I planned to get drunk. And not with my sister--"

"No, not here. With Octavia and me."

"I don't know. I thought..." he let out huff. "I thought you two would have fun. Do girl stuff, hang out, whatever."

He finished his beer and slumped down on the stool, fiddling with the rim of the empty glass. She had never seen him so far from the smirking, swaggering Bellamy she wanted to strangle on the daily.

"It's just. Look, she doesn't have a lot of friends. She takes that stupid city bus to that fucking high school 30 minutes away and none of those snot-nosed brats would bother to drive out here on a Saturday night."

He looked over at Clarke and shrugged sadly.

"I guess I was hoping to make up for that. A little."

Clarke promised in that moment that, no matter what her instincts told her, she would resist trying to help anyone ever again. Because, god, was sad big brother Bellamy not the most pathetic thing she had ever seen. So pathetic that her hand twitched to push back those pathetic dark curls from his sad, sad forehead. Thankfully her brain reigned in the instinct and she awkwardly patted his arm instead.

"You might be a total ass, but you're a good brother."

"Gee, thanks Princess. That was almost a compliment," he smirked and sat up a little straighter, signs of the old Bellamy flooding back. "And I guess I'm sorry for dragging you into this and not being totally upfront, even if it wasn't on purpose. Octavia will always be five in my head and I can't help if some of her antics end in butterfly casts."

"Gee, thanks Blake. That was almost an apology," Clarke shot back, tossing a cherry stem his direction.  
It felt like a truce. There was no promise it would carry into Monday morning at 8 am, but it was nice for now. Clarke Picked up another cherry stem and focusing on twisting it into a square not before opening her mouth again.

"Octavia seems cool. A little wild, but she did compliment my driving skills when I pulled that illegal u-turn to chase her down," she chewed her words before spitting them out.

"Maybe we could hang out sometime."

"Okay," he smiled.

"As long as we all agree that I am not the babysitter."

"Fine, but you're still on duty tonight," He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, his henly stretched tight across his broad chest, smug as can be. "And I think I need another beer."

"You sure about that," Clarke said.

He looked over his shoulder where Octavia was handing a slip of paper to the tattoo'd bartender.

They were out the door in two minutes flat, Clarke jogging to catch up with the bickering siblings, one hundred percent sure they had no idea where her car was parked. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading y'all!
> 
> Unbeta'd and completed at the airport en route to Thanksgiving. Apologies for any typos.


End file.
